


Unwind My Tangled Heart

by keylimefloat



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amusement Parks, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:35:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28575363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keylimefloat/pseuds/keylimefloat
Summary: Entertaining the idea of clinging onto a mini rivalry for twelve years sounds childish to the masses, but it doesn’t stop Renjun from attempting to smack Yangyang in the head with a tetherball.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Liu Yang Yang
Comments: 8
Kudos: 52





	Unwind My Tangled Heart

**Author's Note:**

> this is inspired by the abandoned tetherball court sitting in my backyard and I'm pretty sure this idea came up because I was staring at it from upstairs
> 
> thank you to [mel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tinywriterfairy) who helped beta this and endured the idiocy that occurred throughout this fic

“And … checkmate!” Renjun jumps out of his seat and onto the table just as Yangyang knocks all the chessmen onto the ground in frustration.

“Not again,” Yangyang groans. “I don’t think I’m ever going to win.” He chucks a piece at Renjun, who dodges with ease. It ends up hitting Donghyuck, who’s in the middle of a League game with Jeno.

Donghyuck doesn’t even glance up, just continues staring at the screen in front of him.

“Renjun,” his best friend calls.

“Hm?” Renjun has settled back into his seat, phone in one hand and the other placed on the table, drumming his fingers. He has an idea of where this conversation is steering and he doesn’t like it one bit.

“When are we playing our last match?”

Renjun frowns. “Last” sounds like Yangyang is leaving him for good, which he can’t imagine, which isn’t even true. “Last” reminds him of other people’s unhappiness because he refuses to drown in misery, refuses to acknowledge that things must come to an end. “Last” is not a word Renjun would associate with Yangyang. Ever.

“Renjun?” He snaps his head up to see Yangyang’s face clouded with concern. “You know that’s not what I—”

“It’s fine,” he mutters.

Yangyang understands, knows his fears like the back of his hand, so what he does is walk over to Renjun, put both hands on his shoulders, and give them a small squeeze. Neither of them bring it up for the rest of the day;they both know the question will come back soon enough. Before they leave for college, before they go on their own paths. (Not really, when they’re attending the same school and even figuring out how to dorm together.)

The rest of Donghyuck’s birthday passes by in a blur for Renjun. The last thing he remembers is falling asleep with his hands in Donghyuck’s, his head snuggled into Yangyang’s shoulder, and _Howl’s Moving Castle_ playing in the background for the third time that day even though they’re no longer watching it. Simply put, a great start to the summer after highschool graduation.

⟡

The “last” match comes sooner than expected, just three days after Donghyuck’s birthday. It isn’t the final one; they’ll definitely be playing tetherball again, just not keeping score. Twelve years later, they’re at 1999-1999.

At some point, someone in the group had suggested whoever gets to 2000 tetherball wins first can ask for a favor from the loser. The both of them, being stubborn, immediately agreed. They never need favors from one another, probably never will, but winning a competition? It’s a done deal, especially with their pride on the line. That was proposed in January, after everyone had submitted their college applications.

When February rolled around, Renjun had come barging into Donghyuck’s house, pleading for advice. His exact crisis was that he wanted to ask Yangyang out but wasn’t sure if they could handle a long distance relationship. Valentine’s Day sounded like a fine opportunity to confess to his best friend, but what if neither of them could commit? He didn’t want to take that risk.

Donghyuck’s simple solution to his problem was: buy one of those corny school Valentine grams for Yangyang like he did every year, attempt to win the bet, and use that opportunity to ask Yangyang out on a date. Sounded easy enough. He thought he had enough willpower to win the challenge. He knew he did. Except, nothing happened that February, not when Renjun hadn’t even reached 2000 wins.

It wasn’t until the end of spring break that Renjun started doubting himself. A score of 1999-1999. He would think about it the whole month of April, getting distracted when he and Yangyang were studying together for AP exams. It filled his mind as he took his finals, and even on the day of graduation as he walked the stage. Up until the day of their last match, it was all he could think about. How he wanted to win so bad. How the score was too close for him to do anything but panic. And that, even if he lost, he would have to accept it, move on, settle with the results because there’s a 99% chance he’s still seeing his best friend every day.

Now Renjun sits on the porch, inches away from the freshly painted boundaries of the tetherball court. Jaemin had offered to paint it a ghost white to celebrate the occasion. As soon as Renjun came out of the house to announce his parents’ approval of repainting the boundaries, Jaemin had hopped into his car along with Shotaro to head out for paint and brushes.

“You ready?” Yangyang plops down beside him and hands him a bottle of water. “Your parents told me to bring the twelve-pack out,” his best friend explains when Renjun eyes him, puzzled.

Renjun scowls in disbelief but takes it anyway. He remembers telling his mother to not buy plastic water bottles anymore, but he guesses she never listened. “It’s not biodegradable,” he says as he pokes at the cap.

“We could always make something,” Yangyang suggests.

“You’d rather make arts and crafts with water bottles than play basketball?”

“Nope.” Yangyang grins cheekily, as if he’s proud of being lazy. Efficient, in Yangyang’s own words.

“Thought so.” He takes in a deep breath. “Anyways, it’s a waste of space. We already have everything we need.”

Yangyang hums, then steps into the court, leaving Renjun by the deck. The anxiety is finally taking over him, for he suddenly feels a leap in his chest as he watches his best friend kick back and forth against the dirt. Something about the way Yangyang stands there makes his heart beat faster. When he looks up and waves with a grin, it accelerates tenfold.

Renjun drops the water bottle to his side and skips to where the others are, groaning silently when Donghyuck sends him a wink and finger guns. What a way to ruin the moment.

“You ready?” Yangyang holds the string, lightly swinging it to and fro while the ball follows in a wobbly path. He finally stops and grabs hold of the ball, pushing it into Renjun’s grasp.

“I’m always ready,” is his response. He holds his palms open, allowing the ball to land in his embrace comfortably. When he has the string secured tightly in his left hand, he sticks out his right hand. “Rock, paper, scissors?”

“This is lame!” Donghyuck yells. He attempts to chuck a handful of grass at Renjun, only for it to land in Jeno’s lap. “Oops.”

Within seconds, Jeno is on top of Donghyuck, attempting to strangle him. Shotaro just scoots away from them, crawling to the other side, right behind Yangyang. Renjun turns away from the commotion, eyes back on Yangyang who looks relaxed, way too relaxed.

“I’ll be the referee then,” Jaemin offers. Renjun gives him a small nod. “Rock, papers, scissors, shoot!” In a ridiculous turn of events, Renjun is the one who wins with rock. Renjun never wins rock-paper-scissors against Yangyang.

“I guess I’ll be serving then.” He pushes the ball counterclockwise gently, letting it wrap around the pole. Before the round begins, he takes two more deep breaths to ease his doubts.

The ball stares up at him from a height he has still yet to adjust to. When he first played tetherball, he was barely taller than the ball hanging by the string. Almost every time it swung to his side, he would have to jump up with all his might and exert even more power to direct the ball in the path he wanted it to go. The height of the ball stayed the same throughout all six years of elementary school, and by the end of that, he focused more on strategizing. Not really, just better ways to save his energy.

Tetherball was never his favorite during recess, but he did enjoy teasing little kids with multiple victories in a row as he waited for Yangyang to come out and play their daily match. It became a routine to do so, especially during his last year when Yangyang’s class would often be held back by his teacher’s excessive lecturing.

And so it begins. Renjun has his back facing the pole. He gets ready to swing the ball with all his might. He peeks over his shoulder to find Yangyang quirking an eyebrow, and he’s all the more fired up to wipe that smirk off his face. Maybe even hit him lightly on the head and to show who really owns the court.

Renjun lets go of the ball and watches the string unravel around the pole, then jumps up to catch it after the fifth loop. “You ready?” He mirrors the tone his best friend had used with him earlier, confident the ball will swing the right way—away from Yangyang.

The breeze today is barely there, minimal to the point that not even a blade of grass sways. An advantage for Renjun since he has had a track record of picking the wrong side of the court when the wind runs wild. But because they are on even ground, the pendulum can just as easily swing to Yangyang’s side, an issue he attempts to account for as he punches the ball toward the sky.

Another three rounds of circling and Yangyang has yet to catch the ball, despite shuffling from one side of the court to the other in a flash. He tries to catch the string or tip the ball and change its angle of rotation. The last loop has Renjun wincing when it looks like Yangyang’s fingertips have managed to meet the ball, and he quickly jumps up to tangle the string around his fingers before it flies over his head.

“You really don’t want me to win, do you?” Yangyang is bent over with his chin up, hands on his knees. He squints at the glaring sun as he speaks. He looks fine, Renjun notes, not a drop of sweat spotted on his body, at least from where Renjun is standing.

While Yangyang stays in position, Renjun rushes to throw the ball over his head another couple times, catching it both tries. Now he’s reached the middle point, the most dangerous part of the game. The string likes to fly in its own direction, no matter how hard it’s hit, no matter how straight it’s kept.

Renjun takes in a deep breath, holds it, then breathes out after the faint breeze vanishes. He gasps after releasing; the ball hits Yangyang's head, a small bump in the road. Renjun hurriedly wraps the string around his fingers and moves closer to the pole. He knows it’s a dangerous move because he’s technically giving Yangyang a chance to jump up and snatch the string out of his grasp, but he would rather that happen than see his best friend injured.

“Hey, is your head …?” Without thinking, Renjun reaches to caress his head, only for Yangyang to swat his hand away.

“I’m fine,” Yangyang says. Nothing more, just turns around and repositions himself right at the edge of the borders. “Really, I’m fine,” he adds, when he sees Renjun still staring at him, not stepping an inch back.

Renjun glances back where Donghyuck and Jeno have stopped fighting, giving him a pointed look. Next to them, Jaemin is waving his arms frantically to make Renjun turn around and focus on the game. Right, the game. If he wins, he’s going to take Yangyang out on a date, which he hopes to turn into more date opportunities and a relationship status that is more than just a “best friend” label. Preferably “boyfriend.”

But when Renjun twists his head back, he sees a frowning Yangyang. He looks frustrated. No smiles, no cheeky remarks, no snarky attitude. He’s yet to catch the ball or even accidentally get the string tangled around his fingers. Something’s wrong. He refuses to press on; Yangyang will come around eventually. Their twelve years of friendship have been going strong, with rarely any communication problems. Although they did have one last fall which he’s decided to wipe from his memory.

Maybe Yangyang really wants to win this match. Whatever it is, it must be important to him, and Renjun respects it. But he won’t go down today. He is definitely taking that win today.

Renjun hits the ball once more, hoping it journies smoothly in the air. Instead, the string runs wild and twists in zigzags, the ball bouncing in the air along with it. Yangyang doesn’t catch it and Renjun waits for it to reach his side of the court, jumping to gain possession of the ball. That never happens because it ends up flying over his head, and he watches in horror as the string completely unties from the pole, the ball flying straight at Yangyang’s face.

Yangyang doesn’t get knocked out, but right as Renjun rushes to steady him from behind he leans back, causing the both of them to fall back onto the grass. The other four scramble over in seconds, each pestering Yangyang to see if he’s okay. He mutters a few inaudible words and Renjun asks him to speak a little louder.

“It hurts.” Just two words sends Renjun back into panic mode. He quickly tries to lift Yangyang up, with Shotaro helping on the other side.

“Hyuck, can you grab ice packs from the freezer? And Jeno, can you get a towel? Or paper towels, I don’t know. Just … anything.” Renjun bites his lip, suddenly aware of how much he’s freaking out.

“I’m sure it’s not a huge injury,” Donghyuck tells him. “He looks fine, just out of it. Don’t worry too much about it.” He gives him a pat on the back, then slips into the house with Jeno to grab the things they need.

“Come on, let’s go. Better get him onto a bed before he falls right here,” Jaemin says. Renjun nods wordlessly and leads Jaemin and Shotaro, who are carrying Yangyang on their shoulders, into his bedroom.

When Yangyang reaches the edge of the bed, he immediately falls back onto the mattress. Renjun purses his lips and fights the urge to scold him for making his bed dirty; he decides against it when Yangyang doesn’t move at all.

“Here. Ice packs.” Donghyuck appears from behind and drops them onto the mattress, one bouncing off Yangyang’s leg.

“It hurts,” Yangyang mumbles. Renjun shoots Donghyuck a look before attending to Yangyang. He places the towel on the bed next to Yangyang and smooths it out before placing two ice packs on it. When he finishes wrapping, he sets it next to Yangyang’s head. His hand stays there, afraid the towel will unravel itself and cause the ice packs to tumble away.

Renjun reaches his other hand out to hold Yangyang’s hand, lacing his fingers with his. He’s now asleep, chest rising and falling ever so slightly, lips parted.

“Are you sure he’d want to hold hands with you?” For once, it’s Jeno, not Donghyuck, making a snide comment.

Renjun huffs. “We do this whenever we cuddle! There’s nothing wrong with it.” 

“You _cuddle_?” Jaemin sits at the edge of the bed on the other side of Yangyang, legs dangling to and fro as he stares Renjun straight in the eye, awaiting an answer.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “Mostly when we watch movies.” He focuses on Yangyang’s face. Even asleep, he looks tired. His look screams of fatigue, the eye circles more prominent than ever. Probably worse than the time they had stayed up all night to finish a project for English.

Renjun wants to know what could possibly keep Yangyang up so late when he swears they spend almost every day together. The NBA playoffs are still ongoing, but none of the games have gone past midnight, a few hours ahead of their late bedtime. Watching anime sounds like a more plausible reason, but last time they had stayed up to watch a show, Yangyang had knocked out around three in the morning, not even trying to stay up for the last five minutes of the episode. Or maybe he was playing League? But his only gaming buddies, Jeno and Donghyuck, had gone out on a date last night.

Jaemin leaves the room, and Shotaro replaces his seat at the edge of the bed. He eyes Renjun in concern, who just shakes his head as he directs his attention back to Yangyang.

A few minutes later, Jaemin appears in the doorway with a plate of fruits and sets it on the desk, and swats Renjun’s hand away when he tries to stab a toothpick from the plate into the freshly cut watermelon. “This isn’t for you! Your portion is downstairs.” He nudges Renjun away from the bedside and takes his seat next to Yangyang, who starts to stir. “Oops.”

_This is your fault_ , Renjun mouths, then circles around to the other side and props a pillow up vertically behind Yangyang, making sure his head doesn’t hit the backboard.

“You alright?”

“Mm.” Yangyang accepts the mug Renjun offers to him and takes a sip, then hands it back to him. “Just tired. I stayed up too late.”

Renjun frowns. “How late, though? I’ve never seen you look this tired.”

“Maybe until seven in the morning? I didn’t really keep track but I know it was already bright outside when I opened the blinds.”

“You’re lying.” Renjun is more than sure Yangyang doesn’t have the willpower to stay up that late.

“I’m not.”

“Um.” Renjun’s gaze moves from Yangyang to Jaemin, who is coughing and removing himself from the bedside. His hands are on the sheets, smoothing out the section he had been sitting on, and he excuses himself from the room as soon as he finishes. _Have fun with your crush_ , is what Renjun thinks he hears, although it definitely sounds ridiculous when he thinks about it.

“Are you gonna tell me now? Jaemin left.”

Yangyang cocks his head to the side, a playful grin spreading across his face. “You’ll find out after I win the final match.”

Renjun sits up straight. “You’re not winning the match. I’m gonna win.”

“No, I’m winning.”

“No, I am.” Renjun huffs, surprised Yangyang isn’t backing down, even when he’s still so weak.

They go back and forth, then Yangyang pulls Renjun onto the bed. “Stay here.” Renjun does, with his head on Yangyang’s lap, and he can’t help but think this is a fever dream. Renjun stretches as Yangyang strokes his hair, body turning away while he holds his phone above his head to text Donghyuck about his silent panic. The other seems to be lost in his own thoughts, a contrast from his usual pesky self who would usually try to take Renjun’s phone or look over his shoulder to see who he’s texting.

When Renjun finishes, he throws the phone onto the other side of the bed, then closes his eyes. Last match. He gets jittery again, just as he had been last night. Except this feels different. He believes they’ve always started the game with a “let’s just have fun” mentality, but with the last one dawning, it feels like they’re both fighting for their lives. For him, his victory (or lack thereof) could signify a starting point in his life, something he refuses to give up on. But he wonders whether he’ll be able to let go or move on, or if he’ll even care as much as he had predicted himself to.

Renjun remembers the exact day he had asked his parents for a tetherball pole to be built in their backyard, maybe the only reason why he had maintained his friendship with Yangyang for so long.

It had been a week before his birthday. His parents were starting the conversation off with the usual, like how classes were and if he was ready for summer camp. Renjun nodded. He couldn’t wait to go to astronomy camp, out in the woods, away from his parents, with his best friend. His parents let him ramble about astronomy until most of the dishes were cleared, and then launched a daunting question, one he never expected to hear. It was one of those he always wanted to hear but wasn’t sure if he was ever going to.

“What do you want for a birthday gift?”

It’s not that his parents ever forgot about his birthday. Every year, they would go out and have dinner to celebrate, then Renjun would choose his favorite cake at the bakery to take home. They would invite his friends over, and they would take over the living room with an abundance of games.

The next question came as an even bigger surprise.

“What do you want as your graduation gift?” Renjun wasn’t actually graduating—in fact, he was only eleven, a few months away from entering middle school. But the elementary school called it “graduation” and even had a ceremony to go with it, so as far as his life went, this was considered a relatively big event.

“I want …” Renjun had paused, unable to come up with an answer. “Let me think about it.” His parents didn’t say anything else—a good sign—and went back to talking about their planned summer trip with Yangyang’s family.

Renjun had spent six days thinking about what to ask for as a gift. A birthday gift meant a graduation gift. A graduation gift meant a birthday gift. He understood that, so he tried his best to think of something that held great value. The first thing he thought of was, of course, a telescope, but the skies were always clouded and neither their front yard nor backyard gave them a good view of the night sky. He went around asking his friends for suggestions, thankful when Donghyuck pitched in his idea: a tetherball court.

“This way you don’t have to worry about trying to sneak into the elementary school after school!”

Renjun proposed this to Yangyang, who was enthusiastic about the idea, then brought it up to his parents, who agreed to get it set up over the summer.

As soon as his family installed the court, they invited his friends to his house along with their parents. His mother called it a housewarming party of sorts, but he was sure she was just eager to trade recipes with Yangyang’s mother. Her other excuse was that they had never had a proper housewarming party. He thought it was seven years too late.

Yangyang won the round that day, much to Renjun’s dismay, and even though they played seven more rounds with Renjun winning one, none of them were counted into the final score. The rule was established a long time ago. Only the first game of the day counted. Everything after that was for fun to avoid any favorable days for one or the other.

But playing at Renjun’s house after school became a routine almost immediately. In fact, both of their parents encouraged them to continue playing, no matter how busy they were, as to not neglect exercising. They would enter through the side fence and shrug their backpacks off onto the grass, readying themselves right away. Sometimes, the others would come around to spectate or play, but playing tetherball together was _their_ thing. Their only off-days were due to school tournaments or high stress, but even then, they were with one another almost every day. That’s how it’s been the past twelve years.

By the time Renjun snaps out of his own thoughts, Yangyang is asleep again. He tries to not think about the consequences of his ~~possible~~ unlikely loss, and steers his train of thought toward the path of college. In the same department, being roommates. Renjun couldn’t ask for more.

⟡

A series of banging and crashing followed by a jumble of incomprehensible sentences causes everyone in the living room, including Renjun’s parents, to turn. Yangyang stumbles in with his hair sticking up all over the place, and after blinking a few times to readjust his vision, bows and mutters a string of apologies. He sits on the edge of the sofa next to Renjun, who just hands him a toothpick and shoves a plate of watermelon into his lap.

“You good now?”

“Yeah, just tired,” Yangyang says in between munches. “This is good.”

“They’re fresh.” Renjun grins. “We bought them yesterday.”

He watches Yangyang down more than half of the plate. When he looks up, his gaze goes right past Renjun’s face, toward someone else. Renjun follows, gaze landing on Jaemin, who gives a knowing glance. He looks back and forth a few more times, trying to make sense of the silent exchange, but he can only conclude they are both suspicious. Even Donghyuck notices, and he elbows Renjun lightly to ask about it.

“What are they doing?” Donghyuck’s voice is quiet.

“You think I know?” Renjun whispers back.

“Oh my god, are they dating?”

Renjun immediately pulls Donghyuck into a chokehold. The whines attract Shotaro’s attention, who tries to pry the two apart. Yangyang wraps his arms around Renjun’s waist to make him stay still. Renjun finally lets go of the other then melts into his best friend’s arms. It feels warm. His face heats up, but neither of them make an effort to adjust positions and end up staying like that, even as they continue talking.

“So,” Yangyang starts. “When’s our rematch?”

“On a day when you aren’t sleep deprived.”

“So, tomorrow?” Even with his back to Yangyang, Renjun can hear the excitement in his voice. “I’m fine, really. Won’t happen again.”

Reassurance reaches Renjun’s ears but not his mind. Yangyang knows that by now but Renjun still encourages him to say the words of comfort to prevent his emotions from being buried under a rock. It was Renjun who suggested it years ago, afraid Yangyang would someday spiral. Yangyang enjoyed his life, but never stepped back to think about his emotions. He would push forward without thinking, much of his time spent in his own world trying to come up with a new idea. A new theory.

A voice in Renjun’s head tells him to stop worrying. If there really was something wrong, Yangyang would tell him. He puts a hand over Yangyang’s on his stomach and lets the built-up warmth wash away his worries.

⟡

Renjun clearly remembers the day Yangyang walked up to him a week after the first day of school, a smug expression as he slammed a piece of ripped-up notebook paper on top of Renjun’s paper. He still remembers six-year-old Yangyang’s whiny, high-pitched voice as he boasted, “Look! I’ve got one more win than you!”

“What win?” Renjun went back to finishing his addition worksheet, then flipped through his notebook of stickers. The brat standing in front of him immediately bent down, leveling his eyes with Renjun’s, gaze darting between him and the sticker book.

“Can you give me a sunflower sticker?” His eyes became round, mouth breaking into an innocent grin, and his hands clung onto the edge of Renjun’s desk.

“No.” Renjun only continued organizing his desk and tucked the multiplication table into his homework folder.

“Pretty please?” The second plea came with a pout.

“No.” Yangyang gave up quickly, leaving Renjun alone with his thoughts. Maybe he should have said yes, considering he had yet to make friends. Not even a minute later, Yangyang was back. Renjun had to hold himself back from smiling. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice cold and sharp.

“Do you want to play tetherball later?”

“Later …?”

“Recess!”

Renjun had forgotten about recess. He thought he could return to the classroom after lunchtime, but he was wrong. “Okay.” There was no other way to answer, not when he feared a classmate crying and reporting him for being a bully, not when he needed to make friends.

A game turned into two, then three, then five. There were no other challengers by then. No one wanted to face a first grader too calm and collected, nor one that laughed and screamed too much and even punched the air in victory every time the string wrapped around the pole even a couple of times.

They played every day, whether there were spectators or not, whether there was a long line or not. Two weeks later, Yangyang sat next to Renjun, a small notebook in his hand, sulking over his tenth loss in a row.

“You remember how many times we played?”

Yangyang shrugged, then went back to eating his food. Renjun did not understand, just accepted the fact that Yangyang had enough brain capacity to memorize the results of their matches and hoped the data was accurate. But later down the road, Renjun would come to realize it was a Yangyang thing.

It started with their first club week in high school. Yangyang had printed out a list of the clubs and told the squad to initial next to the clubs they wanted to sign up for. Jaemin, who had student council duties, was the first to scribble over the paper before he slipped into the crowd to start work. The remaining three signed while Renjun opted out and chose to walk around with Yangyang. He watched as Yangyang jumped from table to table, signing up for their friends before Renjun had even decided on which candy to take from the tables.

The other standout memory that made Renjun see another side of Yangyang was the day of their first Parliamentary debate when he squeezed Renjun’s hands too tightly and recited more digits of pi than Renjun could count. As Yangyang rattling off random numbers at the most unexpected times became the norm, Renjun started to find it endearing. But he also learned he only felt that way because Yangyang was doing it when Donghyuck had been mumbling codes under his breath and all Renjun wanted to do was tape his mouth.

But it wasn’t until the summer before middle school that they established the “only counting the first game of the day” rule. Yangyang had kept all the results in nice mini charts. Everything else he owned was a mess, though—his room, his homework, his books—so it came as a great surprise to Renjun when he flipped open the notebooks of results accumulated over the years. How he did, Renjun never understood, but the pile of notebooks became a symbol of their friendship. He was glad Yangyang had approached him so boldly, for he could not imagine what his life would be like without him by his side.

“You ready to lose?” Renjun drops an iced water bottle in front of Yangyang, snickering as he yelps at the frigid surface meeting his bare thighs.

“Not a chance.” Yangyang stands up to meet Renjun’s eyes, irises ablaze with passion and determination.

Renjun has no idea how he’s going to beat a fully driven Yangyang because he never has, but he still has faith in himself. Maybe he doesn’t know what Yangyang wants out of this, but he does know what he himself does and is ready to expend as much of his energy to get the result he wants.

A few months ago, he would have thought this to be a pathetic idea. Acting on his feelings? It sounded ridiculous in his head, no matter how many times Donghyuck tried to convince him. Losing a friend is worse than being rejected. He still thinks that way, but it took him months of evaluating to conclude Yangyang would probably not stop being his friend even if he doesn’t feel the same way. Maybe the beginning would be awkward, but neither of them are going to end what they’ve always had. They’ll keep walking forward, continue to nurture their friendship, focus on their goals and the places they dream to be. At least, he hopes.

“You’re serving today.”

“I am.” Renjun swats at Yangyang’s arm, the cheeky tone getting to him as it always does. “And I’m not letting you even _touch_ the ball today,” Yangyang continues confidently.

Renjun snorts. Yangyang is gutsy, he’ll admit, but it’s something he’s gotten used to over the years. That doesn’t stop him from rolling his eyes, though. He continues to act without thinking, snickering and making side remarks, punching the other lightly as a way to say “stop it” without really meaning it.

No way Renjun is going to leave the court without grabbing hold of the ball and tossing it the other way until it swings to his victory. Because they never thought to gain something more out of their respective wins, neither has bothered using much strategy. At least that is the case on Renjun’s end, and he hopes it is the same for Yangyang. They keep track of their scores, no matter how many times they play, courtesy of Yangyang’s memory, and the scorekeeping feels like a bragging point that is shared between the two of them.

Renjun has never let himself think about strategy, but he has picked up a few things, just enough to win over Yangyang. He always waits for the wind to settle down, only letting go of the ball when he is confident the air current won’t bring it right into Yangyang’s grasp. He gives himself a running start, a tiny one, when only a quarter of the string is free from the pole, to gain more control when the string starts wobbling as it comes around once, twice. He punches the ball instead of slapping it to put more power into it, and hopes it whirls around more times than expected before it loses force.

The game goes by much faster than yesterday’s. Maybe it’s because Yangyang doesn’t stop to think about wind—Renjun vividly remembers the time Yangyang said he was too lazy to think about it—so he just goes for it. But perhaps it’s because Yangyang throws it so hard the wind doesn’t seem strong enough to push against the quick rotating ball. When it reaches near the midpoint, it flies by. The ball looks more like an oval to Renjun’s blurring vision. It reminds him of a model solar system from elementary school science projects, except each object has its own path and is speeding through as if it’s trying to portray 365 days in under a minute.

Renjun touches the ball exactly once. He would be more horrified if it weren’t for how serious Yangyang looks. Yangyang’s eyes are wide, laser-focused on the ball to the point where he almost steps over the line, only noticing when Jaemin yells at him. He’s constantly in a ready stance, putting his weight on his toes. His moves are faster, from the way he sidesteps to how he captures the ball and lets it go in a blink.

So Renjun loses. It shouldn’t be a big deal, since in terms of total counted wins, he _is_ only one behind Yangyang. But he’s still somewhat dejected. A chance lost may turn out to be a good thing because it means it is a guarantee he keeps his friendship.

There aren’t a lot of things Yangyang asks for. A few times he had asked everyone to come over to his house to help him bake a cake for his mother’s birthday, but it was mainly Donghyuck doing the work. Another time he had asked Renjun to sign him in for debate practice even though he was running off to Walmart for who knows what—turned out to be a birthday surprise for Renjun—but it doesn’t really count because he still showed up, just late.

“Stop overthinking.” This time it’s Jeno who sidles up to him with words of comfort.

“I’m not.”

“It’s so obvious. You’re probably thinking about how Yangyang has never really asked you to do anything and now you’re worried he’s gonna take you to some expensive French restaurant and make you eat snails,” Donghyuck chimes in.

“No, that’s _never_ crossed my mind. Go do that with Jeno.” But the moment he finishes the sentence, it does, and it takes Yangyang walking up to him and waving his hands in front of his face for the idea to be shaken off.

“Hey.”

“Hey to you, too.” His lopsided grin is endearing, but another part of Renjun wishes it could go disappear. Maybe he wants to kiss it away. He isn’t sure at this point.

He wants to ask Yangyang what he wants from him, except Donghyuck beats him to it. “So, did you have anything in mind?” Donghyuck slings an arm over Renjun’s shoulder and even guides Jeno’s hand to snake around his waist.

Renjun stiffens at the contact but doesn’t move as he watches Yangyang’s face go from smiley to stone cold to visible frustration. And back to all smiles but with less teeth, more strain. A tinge of jealousy, he hopes. The three of them face Yangyang while Jaemin and Shotaro are nowhere to be found, and Yangyang does nothing but dig his shoe into the dirt and stare right at Renjun.

“Maybe we should leave?” Donghyuck whispers quietly.

“Yeah, go find the others,” Renjun mutters absentmindedly..

When the other two leave, he lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Yangyang takes a large stride toward him and immediately pulls him into a hug. Renjun lifts his arms up to awkwardly wrap them around Yangyang’s waist.

“Do you want to say it now?”

“Hm?”

“The favor.”

“Ah.” Renjun pats his back in assurance as a way to tell him it’s okay to think about it more before speaking. “Well, it’s not really a favor, I don’t think.”

“If it’s too much, we can always change it. But choose something you really want, not just because you don’t want to hurt me.”

“I’m not—It’s not—” Renjun hears a heavy sigh of frustration, but it feels like it’s directed at Yangyang himself more than anyone else. “I think I thought a lot about this, maybe too much. And I definitely don’t have a backup plan if we really can’t go through with this so you have to give me some more time to think about it if it really comes to it. But I’ve been thinking about this for the past few months, so I hope it’s something you’re okay with. I don’t know, just—”

“Yangyang.” Renjun pulls away to get a good look at him. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m right here.” He reaches out to cup his face in one hand, his other hand still steady on Yangyang’s waist. “When have I ever judged you for something you wanted to do, hm?”

“Never,” he mumbles.

“We can talk about this tomorrow if you’re more comfortable with that. What do you want to do today?”

“Watch a movie and cuddle.” The answer is barely audible, and when Renjun finishes processing the answer, his cheeks heat up. He shouldn’t react like this because they always do it, but Yangyang suggesting the idea in such a small and fragile voice makes it feel more intimate.

“Okay, let’s do that.” He links arms with Yangyang and pulls him into the house, where a table of takeout is waiting for them.

⟡

Renjun is bundled up in two layers of blankets, despite it being smack in the middle of summer. Today’s thunderstorms come as a surprise, the fierce currents crashing into the windows he always has open at this time of year. He’d only shut it earlier when a chilling gust of wind blew in, demanding him to check the weather forecast for the remainder of the night.

He’s still cold. When he turns, he finds Yangyang sitting with his legs crossed, head against the backboard, without any blankets covering him. The sight of the basketball shorts makes him roll his eyes. Then Yangyang is rotating his head to stare back, but he turns away quickly, instead focusing on the list of channels on the television screen. ESPN is highlighted for a brief moment, and Renjun lets out a whine of frustration. It quickly changes to something else, and after a few seconds of quick navigating, the screen turns black. Even with his eyes closed, he can sense Yangyang removing his weight from the bed, his footsteps landing him a few feet away. He resists his curiosity when he hears DVD packages hitting one another, each like a rhythmic slap.

“Hey, Renjun?”

“Mm?” With his body tucked snugly into the blankets and his mind already drifting, there isn’t really any reason to stay awake. He wants to go to sleep, but Yangyang definitely has other plans in store.

“Do you have Spider-man?”

“Which one?” He has several. Yangyang is probably asking for _Spider-man: Homecoming_ , unless he suddenly wants to reminisce about the early 2000s when they could barely speak in complete sentences.

“Homecoming.” _Bingo._

“Second shelf from the top, somewhere to the left probably.”

“I don’t see it anywhere.”

Renjun groans. His eyes fly open, the glaring brightness of his lights above stabbing his vision. He wiggles out of the blankets begrudgingly and trudges over to the bookshelf Yangyang stands in front of. One hand grabs the edge of the level for stability, and the other travels to the binds of the DVDs. His index finger trails back and forth frantically, and when he doesn’t find it, he resorts to tilting his head to read the titles properly.

“Huh. It should be here.” Renjun feels a tap on his left shoulder, but he looks the other way. “You’re the only other person in the room, you can’t fool me.”

“Well, you should look anyways!” 

Renjun obliges, and comes face to face with the DVD Yangyang had requested him to look for.

“You—”

“Aw, are you disappointed?”

“I wanted to sleep!”

Yangyang hooks his arm around Renjun’s neck, this time loosely. “Sleep later. I have something important to ask.”

“Shoot. Make it quick, though. I don’t have time for your rambling nonsense tonight.”

“You said it was endearing!” Yangyang pouts.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” It is _adorable_ , he wants to comment. Maybe another time. “So, what is it?”

“I was thinking,” Yangyang starts. “We should ditch the squad tomorrow. Go to an amusement park or something.”

“ _That’s_ the something important you had for me? God, give me a break.” He tries to slip out of Yangyang’s grip, but he doesn’t budge no matter how hard Renjun pushes. “We could just go with them. Why without?”

“Because.” Yangyang sounds so sure, even without a proper answer.

“Because …?”

“I mean, why not?”

“I guess …” Renjun wonders how the others will react to them going to an amusement park without them, without even saying a thing. Whereas it’s possible Donghyuck will congratulate him, even coo at him since it’s considered alone time with Yangyang outside of hanging out together at home or at the library, what about Jaemin? He imagines Jaemin nagging, then being super clingy because he has less time to spend with Renjun than Yangyang. Jaemin has always been closer to Yangyang, but for some reason, he’s always more physically affectionate with Renjun than he is with Yangyang. He doesn’t mind, but there were instances where it was too much, and he hopes that never happens again.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun. And we don’t have to spend half an hour arguing about who sits with who.” This is something he can’t exactly argue with.

“Fine.” Renjun finally removes Yangyang’s arm from around his neck and jumps straight onto the bed. “I’m going to sleep.”

The other slips in besides him and tugs the blankets from under him and tosses it high, letting it land on top of them both.

“C’mon now, you big baby. Turn over before you fall asleep on your stomach.” Renjun grumbles but does as told, the corners of his lips lifting when Yangyang helps adjust the blankets. He grabs ahold of Yangyang’s hand and brings them to his side, then intertwines their fingers together.

“Let’s go to sleep like this.” Renjun feels brave today. With today’s loss, he no longer feels afraid of letting go. If he has to, then so be it. Fate already gave him twelve years with Yangyang, allowing him to spend his adolescence with someone who always walked by his side and tried to push him toward the stars. Even if they aren’t still walking side by side in a year, three years, five years, a decade, he thinks he’ll always look back in pride without any regret.

The answer he gets? “Okay. Yeah.” Yangyang’s voice is shaky yet firm.

“Good night, Liu.”

“Good night to you too, Huang.” He reaches for the switch on the nightstand. Darkness hits, the rest of their night filled with the drizzle tapping against the windows at a slow and steady tempo.

⟡

Renjun stands in the middle of the square in front of the water fountain at the amusement park, linking arms with Yangyang, posing with a lame peace sign and eyes squinting as the sun hits their faces. Personally, he finds it ridiculous, but Yangyang had insisted on taking it to save as a memory. “Because we’ll probably be too busy having fun to remember about pictures,” were his exact words.

When the photographer, a young woman presumably in her teens, stands up and gives them an okay sign, Yangyang jumps forward to snatch the phone back.

“You looked like you were gonna jump her. Look at her!” Renjun points to a retreating figure slipping into the crowd. “She’s _scared_.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re just being dramatic.” Yangyang swats down Renjun’s arm and pulls him away from the center of the square, toward a stand of hot dogs.

“We’re eating _now_?”

“No,” Yangyang grins, “but I’m gonna make sure you smell it so you’ll remember it and want to eat later.”

Renjun gives him a light punch in the arm. “I think we can just wait for your stomach to growl, since it used to every time fifth period rolled around.”

“Yeah, whatever. C’mon now.” Yangyang takes the lead toward the Whitewater Falls. They take a few steps up the wooden stairs and fall into line with the other visitors. Leaning against the railings, Renjun takes this chance to stare at Yangyang, who’s looking far ahead. He wants to, in that moment, cup his face and tell him he wants to be his forever, but another part of him is lying low, satisfied just admiring his side profile, taking in the beauty and warmth of his soft features.

“Yangyang.”

“Yeah?” Both of Renjun’s elbows are still on the wooden railing, his head turned and tilted so he’s facing Yangyang, who finally redirects his attention.

“This is our last summer.” He hates the word “last,” but doesn’t know any other way to put it.

Yangyang frowns.

“I mean, our last free summer. We can’t—” Renjun stops to gather his words, afraid he will pierce Yangyang’s heart. He has never been one to get hurt by words, mainly focusing on wins and losses, acceptances and rejections, the results or lack thereof cultivated through his efforts. But words _can_ crush. This isn’t a finalized grade, a bad essay score. Those, you can leave behind and learn to deal with, overturn them with better results. Walking the line of words that can break a friendship? A different story. So he takes a deep breath, and treads carefully. “We won’t be side by side forever. You have your dreams, I have mine. We can be there for each other, but let’s not be too attached and suffocate ourselves.” _Shit_. He didn’t intend to phrase the last part like this.

Yangyang must sense his rising panic because he just chuckles and replies, “I know. But we can still be a constant in each other’s lives right? Plus, I should be honored to be standing next to the almighty and great Huang Renjun. If I stand next to you all the time, I’ll probably be blinded by how bright you shine.”

“Oh, god.” Renjun ignores the comment to push Yangyang forward, closing the gap between them and the group in front of them.

Another batch of people slips into the seats of the boat, and the pair moves up to the front of the line. Yangyang looks back at Renjun with wide and rounded eyes, a light bounce in his steps as he continues to look between the water and Renjun.

When another string of boats arrives and the guy guarding the gate opens up to allow the first stream of riders aboard, Yangyang immediately strides to the front and slips in. He moves all the way inside and Renjun follows, waiting for more people to slide into their row. No one ever comes. They look behind to find everyone else has come in parties of four or five, which means, even if Renjun was squished into Yangyang’s side, the workers would never allow more people to fit inside.

Renjun slides back to the center, pulling Yangyang along. Now they are smack in the middle with front-row seats for _the_ starter ride of the amusement park. This is a different kind of thrill. He anticipates the journey up without trying to look over someone else’s shoulder, then the dive down into the splash zone with a feeling of freshness as the first ones to come in contact with the water.

“This is great.” Renjun looks over to find Yangyang with his hands behind his head as they ascend at a turtle pace, eyes closed, taking light breaths. As soon as Renjun scolds him to put his hands back on the bar, though, he stops and obeys. They’re about to tip over when Yangyang notices the height, and a part of Renjun is disappointed at himself for not warning him, for not noticing earlier. He doesn’t think Yangyang will be flung out of his seat since the drop isn’t even that dangerous or high, but it still induces panic and the thought tugs at his chest.

“HUANG RENJUN.” Renjun whips his head around to find Yangyang staring at him with a wide grin, so shining his eyes have turned into crescents. “I LOVE YOU.”

“I LOVE YOU,” he shouts back naturally at equal volume. He doesn’t think much of the shouted “I love you.” They say it to one another quite often, even though Donghyuck has commented on how unusual it is for two guy best friends to be all over one another with that phrase. Which is also why he had to spend time planning out how to confess to Yangyang since he’s sure he would break down into sobs as soon as he utters, “I love you.”

Renjun blinks and turns his attention back to the ride. As they slide into the splash zone, the wave comes up and surrounds them, but the tips reach past to the rows behind them. Any disappointment from his end is quickly replaced by adrenaline he’s picked up from Yangyang’s excessive shouting and fist pumping. The grin stays on his face, even as the boat eases slowly into the docking area, and when they come to a complete stop, they hop out right away.

“Great, isn’t it?” Renjun nods and tries to avoid mentioning the whole “not getting splashed” dilemma. “Let’s go quickly, before the park closes.”

“It’s not even noon,” he mumbles.

Renjun is still thinking about which ride to go on next when he walks into Yangyang. “Ow.” The sound comes out as a reflex, but he is sure he’s fine.

Yangyang watches him for a few seconds in anticipation, then pulls him closer, toward Yangyang and the railings. “Here. _This_ is the real splash zone.”

Oh. Of course. How could he forget? They have never missed the chance to stand here after the ride, whether they came with their parents or their friends, by themselves, or during a field trip. Their preteen years consisted of them yelling at whoever was on the boats, but now? Just standing there, laughing as the huge wave drenches their clothes, refreshing themselves with the cold water to start their amusement park journey, is enough.

Renjun hears the approaching steps of another wave of people coming off the rides, and as soon as he hears a familiar laugh he ducks and presses his head against Yangyang’s chest. “From school,” he mutters.

“I think they already saw my face.”

“That’s fine. I just don’t want them to think this is a date and—”

“You don’t?”

Renjun lifts his head up to stare at Yangyang who is now returning the look with a questioning gaze. He averts his eyes and mumbles a few words about going on another ride, this time being the one to pull Yangyang along. “Teacups?” he suggests. 

A perky “Sure!” is all he needs to jump into line.

The spinning teacups go less smoothly than he had hoped for. He doesn’t get dizzy, but the spinning causes him to slide around on the seat more often than he would like. At some point, he finally grips the wheel—he had completely neglected instructions from the operator—and ends up digging too tightly into Yangyang’s fingers by accident. Instead of screaming, the other just yells, “You like me that much, Renjun?” He never replies, but they both know the answer is a definite “yes.”

It’s tiring, and Renjun wants to go on a slower ride, maybe the river rafts, but it’s Yangyang’s turn to choose, and he opts for the drop tower.

“This early?” Renjun gulps at the long line. He was hoping they could eat earlier today so the popular rides are free of lines by the time they walk off their full stomachs.

“Just this once, is that okay? And don’t pick lunch after this. I’m serious.”

“Why?” They are in line now, and Yangyang is resting his elbow on Renjun’s shoulder.

“Just this once,” Yangyang repeats. “Trust me on this.” And he nods in agreement because he is weak, because he is curious. Saying “no” to Yangyang has always been easy, but it’s the way he makes Renjun want to know more that has him saying “yes” more than he wants to. He wonders if anyone else feels like that. (He knows Donghyuck definitely does not, after seeing the two engage in a battle of pleas and rejections.)

And when Renjun ends up in the seat next to Yangyang, buckled up, he realizes that going on the drop tower now is better than minutes after lunch, which is what he would be itching to do if they had gone to eat first.

They shoot all the way to the top, and when he finally opens his eyes, he sees the skyline of the city in the distance. If given a second more, he could probably squint and point out roughly where his house is. But there is no time for that. The anticipated stomach drop attacks, and his view is limited back to the park and the towering trees of the surrounding area. And up again they go, this time enough to peak over the tips of the trees.

“You know,” Yangyang says, “I’d love to stay like this.”

“Stuck in the fucking air?” Renjun shoots him a look just as the ride lurches and pulls against their organs.

“I MEANT NEXT TO YOU, DUMBASS.” They’re lucky everyone else is too busy screaming, and Renjun is fortunate to be hit by the shock that drains color from his face just as Yangyang’s words try to flush color in his cheeks.

Maybe Yangyang means it in a best friend kind of way. But the “I love you” from earlier resurfaces. His heartbeat starts to thunder in his ears loud and clear.

“I love you” can mean a lot of things, but no one has ever told Renjun what the phrase is supposed to mean when yelled out loud on an amusement park ride. There are times when he thinks about the possibility of Yangyang reciprocating his feelings, but with how things are going, it doesn’t seem likely. They’re good as friends, no doubt, but he doesn’t know how well they’ll fare as something other than friends. Moments like these make him hope, but they’re pushed down fairly quickly

Renjun takes time to process his thoughts as the handlebar is lifted and Yangyang comes to unbuckle his seatbelt for him.

“You didn’t have to.”

Yangyang shrugs. “I wanted to.” There he goes again, with his nonchalant phrases that make Renjun’s heart do backflips, ones that make him swoon on the inside.

Renjun brushes it off, moving the topic to the next ride. “You wanna go on the roller coaster before we grab lunch?”

“Your call,” he says, but he’s already slipping his hand into Renjun’s and bringing him in the direction of the gates.

Renjun bites down on his lip as he follows, thinking about what could make Yangyang so urgent about getting onto a roller coaster. His head spins while making up various excuses. He has a couple of reasons in mind, except they sound more and more absurd the longer he thinks about it.

Maybe Yangyang is sick, and he wants to go home early. It makes sense since he fainted on the spot the other day, and it’s only been a couple of days since then. Perhaps Renjun should’ve said no to hanging out today and forced Yangyang to rest at home before he worsened his condition by being hyperactive. Or he could have suggested somewhere else to go for the day, like the movie theatre or an expensive restaurant from their bucket list. (He tries to not think about how it’s been abandoned since the start of senior year.)

The other plausible explanation is that Yangyang is up to something. They almost never change the order of the rides they go on, the one exception being eighth grade summer when a new roller coaster was built. That was the only time they had changed up their routine, even opting to rush into line for the ride before going on the Whitewater Falls. He deduces Yangyang is most likely up to something, but as to what, he has no clue. Renjun never has any clue, unless it’s a birthday surprise, which Yangyang has always sucked at hiding.

As they board, Renjun puts his hand on Yangyang’s thigh and looks him straight in the eye. “You’re not up to anything, right?”

A ripple of nervous laughter, followed by a hesitant “Nope!” is all he needs to hear to know something is _definitely_ wrong. Being at the front yet again is definitely a coincidence but with Yangyang avoiding his gaze, his voice even losing the usual snarkiness, there is something he has no idea about. Today, he treats the coincidences as a telltale sign but lets it go for now. He’ll drill the information out of him during lunch.

“Wait.” Yangyang’s voice makes Renjun turn, and his eyes are now shaking as he speaks.

“Hm?”

“I know this is—” A gulp. “It’s sudden. But whatever I ask up there, think about it, okay? I don’t need an answer right away, just don’t ignore it.”

The car starts moving, albeit at a slow pace. He still has time to process Yangyang’s words. Or not.

The roller coaster climbs up the tracks, and it takes all of Renjun’s might to not relax into the natural recline, knowing he’ll want to jump up in his seat as the ride takes its first steep dive. He tries to not close his eyes because getting a front seat view of the tracks and the path is something that happens only once in a while, even less when they don’t come to the amusement park often.

“HUANG RENJUN!” Renjun should’ve braced himself for the yelling after Yangyang had acted so suspiciously before boarding the car. Yangyang had been yelling on the rides more than usual, with weird phrases like “I love you.” Renjun should’ve known there would be more of his weird antics.

Still, he musters up the courage to reply, hoping the volume of his voice at least matches the people behind who are screaming. “WHAT DO YOU WANT, LIU YANGYANG?”

“WILL YOU BE MY BOYFRIEND?”

Oh, god. No amount of preparation would have made him ready to answer or even think about this question, much less doing so while on a roller coaster. This would be a different story if they had gone to a fancy restaurant and there was suddenly a violinist playing in front of them as a cake was wheeled in. Or if they were cuddling and Yangyang had opted to show him a video of them throughout the years. Instead, he gets to hear this question on a roller coaster while having to listen to the piercing screeches of all the other passengers.

The rest of his thoughts are blurred by the constant yelling, his insides rearranging themselves as they loop, and the ride zooms through the tracks. Next to him, Yangyang screams too, except the deafening volume of his voice hurts his ears.

The car skids to a stop, and they are ushered out of the seats to make way for the next wave of people.

“Yangyang?” He looks down and focuses on adjusting his shirt as he speaks. “My answer is yes.”

“Really?” Yangyang tackles Renjun in a hug, and he stumbles a few steps as he adjusts to Yangyang’s weight pushing him down.

“You’re so stupid,” Renjun mutters. “How else would I have answered?”

“Well, I thought you were gonna complain about being awkward since we’re roommates. Or something about how your dreams are more important and you don’t have time to date. How about saying no? Sounds like something you would say just because.”

“I would _not_ say that just because!” Renjun protests. He actually would if he didn’t like Yangyang so much, but he adores Yangyang, even more than his friends can imagine. His best friend knows him too well.

Renjun clings to Yangyang’s arms as they weave through the crowd, the right side of his face pressed against his shoulder.

“Dude, this feels weird.” Yangyang tries to detach his arm from Renjun’s grip.

Renjun pulls away with a frown. “Are you seriously trying to ‘dude’ me on our first day as boyfriends? It hasn’t even been a minute.”

“That’s not what I—Wait, no!”

Renjun pretends he doesn’t hear and slips away, feet taking him to a stand of cotton candy, where the only person manning it isn’t even paying attention. He clears his throat and points at the blue one in the picture taped to the front of the stand. The worker gives a curt nod and starts right away. A minute later, fluffy strands swirl around the white paper cone, and he drops a few coins in the worker’s palm before grabbing the cone.

Renjun turns around to find Yangyang biting into the cotton candy before he himself has even had the chance to get a taste.

“Fuck off, Liu. Get your own.” Renjun turns away and guards his cone, with Yangyang trying to swerve to the other side to take a bite. He fails, teeth crashing into Renjun’s shoulder.

“Ow.”

“That was deserved,” Renjun says smugly as he drags Yangyang away from the stand. “Come on, we missed a few rides earlier.”

The afternoon heat is starting to hit, and Yangyang grumbles about how he’s sweating. Despite that, Renjun takes charge and picks the remaining rides, with the first one being the Rip Roaring Rapids that drenches them in water from the get-go so Yangyang shuts up about how hot it is. The ones after are much more mild, even with Yangyang screaming at the top of his lungs on the swings that aren’t threatening, not even a tiny bit. They end with the carousel, surrounded by children trying to run around as the ride snails around, music of joy and festivity playing in the background.

When the sun starts to set and the skies are painted like rainbow sorbet, they’re out of the park, hand in hand, on their way home to face a series of new beginnings.

**Author's Note:**

> [curious cat](https://curiouscat.qa/keylimefloat)
> 
> [banging pots and pans, blasting 127's "kitchen beat" at full volume] please love renyang lots :3


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